


sunlight, gleaming.

by yakyuu_yarou



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Original Work
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-03 23:57:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16335809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yakyuu_yarou/pseuds/yakyuu_yarou
Summary: A morning just like any other: Spectre wakes up.





	sunlight, gleaming.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my lovely DM (@miladyshakes on Twitter) for wallowing in emotions about my purple bard man (Spectre) with me.

Spectre wakes when an arm _thunks_ across his chest and a sleep-warm voice groans right into his ear. It twitches, and the rest of his body follows, a slight discomfort even as his lips turn up into an indulgent, content smile. He makes no move to dislodge the arm, and instead turns into the body beside him — he‘s always so warm, just shy of too warm, too hot, too much. He slots himself against Ewara, his tall, lanky body fitting into the smaller, wiry frame behind him with the ease of decades of experience, and he lets out a quiet noise of satisfaction, somewhere between a sigh and a hum.

‚Why must you make me suffer like this, _kirilar_?‘, he asks, but there‘s no use in even pretending at accusation, so he doesn‘t bother, just lets his head pitch forward as Ewara starts pressing gentle kisses to his neck, kisses punctuated by gentle nips with small, wicked fangs that never even break skin, only aim to wake him further — and they do, much as he wishes they wouldn‘t. Unsurprisingly, in this as well, Ewara knows him too well to fail.

He almost misses the ‚because the servants woke me, and shared suffering is halved‘ murmured against the fine hairs on the back of his neck, but only almost, and so his ears twitch again, differently, as he chuckles to himself. The arm across his chest lifts, then swats at him, playful and light. ‚Don‘t laugh at me!‘, Ewara hisses, mock-insult thick in his voice, but so is the amusement, and something else Spectre intends to refuse to let himself name.

‚So what you need is for me to kick you out of bed, hm? Gladly.‘ He lets his own voice take on an edge on the last word, then pulls one leg up and kicks backwards — lightly, but hard enough to do just that unless Ewara fights seriously or braces himself very well, and he does neither. A moment later, there‘s a muffled oof, and Spectre thinks he can feel the glare aimed at him from the floor on the other side of the massive bed between his shoulder blades. He lifts one hand, waves behind himself, and rolls himself off the other side of the Prince‘s bed. He stands, arms up above his shoulders so he can tie his hair into a loose bun until he‘s ready to style it properly, and walks around the bed to stare at dark purple skin for a heartbeat, two, three. He flushes without meaning to when he realises his own position and lowers his arms to offer Ewara a hand up. The tiefling accepts, lips pulled up into a smirk that emphasises his fangs, and once on his feet, leans in to nip at Spectre‘s bottom lip. He‘s followed his train of thought, of course he has; he knows him so well.

Spectre makes himself step back, knows that if he doesn‘t, they will be awfully late again. ‚We can do that later‘, he offers, looks down at himself, then Ewara. ‚We should get ready, _kirilar_. You need to meet with your tutors, and I need to prepare for my performance at the banquet tonight.‘ He smirks, ears tipping back happily. ‚Wouldn‘t want to leave a foreign Count to be disappointed, would we?‘

**Author's Note:**

> kirilar = core of my soul, but in Giant
> 
> Thank your for reading!


End file.
